


Rain and Hotdogs

by Redcheese



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: M/M, WIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 18:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redcheese/pseuds/Redcheese
Summary: Deadpool is looking for Spider-man for some reason. He threatens Peter's favourite hot-dog vendor to get information and Peter is having none of that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this was just made because I was listening to a rain soundtrack and I really wanted to write about rain.

The evening sky above New York City is dark. The air is thick with moisture, it swarms with discordant black clouds, and is comprised of inky blue light. Rain droplets streak from the sky like small translucent swords, bombarding the colourful umbrellas and tarmac roads below. Once each droplet hits a solid target it explodes before relaxing and mollifying into a fluid form. This water merges with the other droplets to create rivulets of dirty roily puddles that slide along the pavement, off the curb and fall into the steel gated drains. Streetlamps on the sidewalk offer orbs of dim hazy orange light that reflect off the puddles. The wind whips and whistles. Far in the distance there is a deep rumble. Then a brilliant flash of lightning cuts through the air and in its transitory presence everything is lit a blinding white. Briefly, before it is gone, and once again all is gloomy.

It is Friday. For the common denizen this meant rejoicing to welcome a weekend where they would relax and not have to work. Perhaps they would spend time with their family. For the younger denizens this time meant they would celebrate by dancing and drinking the night away. It was a time where everyone could let go of their courteous professional work image and become as fluid as the rain droplets had after striking the floor. But far, far above the city, there was one man to whom Friday was in fact the busiest and most unrelaxing of days. It was the day that he had to fix the messes that the others made by letting themselves go.

Spider-man was stuck to the wall of a church. He was begrudging and tired. The rain drenched his suit and made it stick to his skin, he felt cold and wet and uncomfortable. The sensible thing to do would be to seek shelter under one of the canopies on the church, but Peter isn’t sensible, he never was. If Peter was sensible he would not be out here wearing a thin layer of red and blue spandex, jumping from buildings and climbing up walls. He doesn’t want to move. He wants to stare at the city lights and let the sound and the feel of the rain occupy him forever. He wants to feel numb, just to watch the lives of others, not to worry about anything, to be detached. To not have responsibility for all those lives walking down below.

But Peter knows he can’t. They need him. They need Spider-man.

Why him though, why did he have these powers. Why was he so addicted to it all? He’d ruined so many of his relationships because of his alter ego. Mary Jane particularly, she always put their relationship in jeopardy because she was afraid Peter would get hurt or that he’d lose it and hurt others, she wanted Peter not Spider-man. Peter however could not give the webslinger up. And true to her word Mary Jane dumped his ass, he deserved it. She could do so much better, she could get someone who was around for her and not Peter who appeared at 3am to say goodnight, slept next to her, then left at 6am and smacked crooks in the face to feel better. He couldn’t give up the thrill, the risk, the adventure, and the duty. Peter Parker was an antisocial nerd, Spider-man was confident and witty. Peter Parker’s life was dull, Spider-man’s was not.

He was scrawny black silhouette with glowing white eyes. Long spindly fingers stuck and slipped off the damp stone walls as he carefully made his way down the spire. ‘I want to sleep, and I want to eat. I’m so sick of sitting and waiting for something bad to happen.’ He thought. His feet slapped against the concrete as he stepped off the wall. Funnily enough the street was almost deserted. And against the weighty gloom he appeared as nothing more than the cheap red haze of his suit.  

His thin boots splashed through puddles as he walked down the street. “Wonder if that hot dog place is still open. One of those would really cheer me up right about now.”  

 

Peter sat on a wooden picnic table beside a garish hotdog van. He devoured a greasy hot-dog in the pouring rain, his mask half rolled up and the poking strands of his soaking hair clinging around his jaw. Spider-man frequented this hot-dog van, so the vendor, Mike, was unbothered by the presence of the super hero. Mike was a large burly man, he had small eyes and long dark hair, despite his size his features were soft. He wore a checked apron that matched the theme of the yellow and red logo on the van. The van let out a harsh white light, and it was the only illumination in the area, everything else was dark. Business was slow today, so Mike allowed himself to lean on the plastic counter and start a distanced conversation with the webslinger.

“So, how is life mister Spider?” He conversed in a thick southern accent.

“Great now that I’m eating this. How’s my favourite supplier doing, Mike?” The light from the van reflected off Peter’s lenses as he smiled brightly.

“Yeh, I’m good lad. You sure you’re not cold out in that rain? I’ll let you sit in the van if you want.”

 “I’m sure.”

“Alright. Imma not gonna impede on your… choices.”

Peter finished the last of his hot-dog greedily, stuffing the final piece into his maw. He vigorously wiped the ketchup off his face and chin with a soggy tissue and leaned back with a satisfied exhale. That was good, really good. It sure wasn’t healthy yet Peter couldn’t care less. He was 28, but Aunt May still insisted he was a growing boy. He liked to believe her. He also burned more carbs daily then was humanly possible, that there was a good excuse. And anyway, it was a rare occasion that he got to enjoy the luxuries of street food because he was protective of the little money that he had. He was allowed to enjoy it.

Mike coughed anxiously to get his attention. “Hey uh, Spider-man, you wouldn’t happen to know that I got a weird customer last week. He said he knew you. Said it was important.”

“Huh. Strange, but I guess everyone kind of knows me. I am your friendly neighbourhood Spider-man after all. He didn’t hurt you, did he? What did he look like? Listen Mike, if any customers are bothering you then you know you can tell me. I’ll deal with them.”

“He was askin’ about you. Told me to tell him where you were. I said, I don’t know, I’m just a hot dog vendor, obviously. How am I supposed to know? That wasn’t good enough for him, so he got all angry and started to threaten me with his fingers. I spat at him because he was a rude bastard, and he pulled out some big swords. That scared all the customers away, so I told him to fuck off. Then he told me to ‘fuck on’ and said he’d come back again on Tuesday and was expecting a free hot dog with all toppings for compensations. He said I better tell him where you were by that time otherwise he’d make my fingers into hotdogs. He was a goddamn psychopath I’m telling ya. I don’t want him to come back. But I don’t wanna call the police because that’s bad for business.”

Peter sighed. “He wasn’t wearing red and black by any chance, was he?”

“He was. Guessing you do know him then.”

“Yeah, unfortunately. Don’t worry Mike I’ll deal with him. Tuesday. I’ll be here.”

“You’re a good man. Thank you.”

“Come-on Mike. I’m not doing it for free! I expect compensation, you know. Free food.”

“I---”

“Kidding. I wouldn’t do that. If I did that then I would have to start calling this a job and not a hobby. And besides, that hotdog would taste like pure guilt. I couldn’t eat that.” Peter chuckled, getting up and setting off out into the storm to get back to work.

 

 


	2. Rainy Mattress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade wakes up in an alleyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [] white  
> {} yellow
> 
> Poolo vision.

A blazing sunset. Spider-man gazed into Deadpool’s eyes. “Wow Deadpool, I never noticed before. But you’re actually like so hot, and funny.” He ran his hands over Deadpool’s rippling muscles and blushed. “We should get married. Or something.”

{Nice.}

[Wake up dumbass. Spider-man would never say that.]

Wade shifted. His body sinking further into his mattress. “Nhheehh… I can dream.” He protested, swatting the air. Trying to discourage his imaginary voices. The dream but weird, yeah it was dumb, but it was sweet. And it wasn’t a nightmare, he didn’t want to wake up.

[Look at the time.]

His eyes snapped open. Everything was black. He patted the top of his head, grasping at the material he found there he tore off his pink sleeping mask. The sodden mask unstuck from his face with a nauseating squelch. The blinding morning light swamped his vision.

He grunted and shifted on the dirty wet mattress that was his bed. His mouth was damp. He wiped the viscid drool off his chin with the back of his hand. Around him the brick red walls of the alleyway were narrow and seemed to shrink in. The morning light edged through the rectangular opening above between the two rows of buildings, casting long black shadows off the large blue dumpsters and metal bins that it hit. The concrete path was rough and bestrewed with garbage; crisp packets, chewing gum, empty cans, plastic bags. All was damp and flooded from another night of rain courtesy of the storm that seemed to last forever. Uneven puddles occupied any crater they could, and each overhang on the wall was dripping with water. Gutters were working overtime, water rushing noisily and depositing their freight away from the warm homes and onto the cold alleyway. Wade’s alleyway.

Wade lifted his arm and turned it around to get a better look at the analogue clockface of the Steven Universe watch that was around his wrist. He squinted at the lurid watch, before realising it was steamed up from the moisture that had condensed inside it. He used a fat blue finger to wipe it clean and glean back the time. His worn eyes followed the short arrow first, 12, then it followed the- wait, 12???

“Fuck.” He swore. Ripping the covers off and kicking them away from himself. “Slept for too long.”

[Told you to set an alarm.]

{Yeah but we’ve already got noise complaints, so the landlady wouldn’t be happy.}

[The noise complaints were for the _explosions_. And we got kicked out last week remember. That’s the whole reason we’re out here on the street.]

He wiped a sloppy hand over his running nose. Prowling down the street he bent down to pick up an abandoned mirror, it was one of those cliché rounded beauty mirrors that teenage girls in movies would use, but his one was broken and stained brown. He gaped into it. Staring back at him was an ugly cancerous tumour, something that could hardly be called human. Pale yellow eyes, swollen skin, jagged scars, and patches of tender exposed muscle across every inch. There were deep lines over his face and sweeping purple bags under his eyes that told of his rough sleeping habits. “I look like shit.” He scowled, throwing the mirror as far away from himself as he could. It smashed into pieces against the ground. ‘No surprises there.’ He thought, pulling on his red and black mask.  

He dragged his feet along the floor, only letting his feet up to kick whatever can he could out of his way. ‘Yeah stupid cans. You deserve that.’ He knew it was pathetic, but he used these cans to take out his anger. He was tired of the mercenary jobs. They were all the same, it was always a slimy envious client who asked him to take out their ex or their competition, someone who did a petty deed and hurt their sensitive feelings. Wade was bored with it, and he was tired of plugging bullets into the heads of unsuspecting citizens. It was too easy, they had no chance, they couldn’t even put up a fight. It was rare that he was called about an exciting grand-scale mission, so it was always him working for these arrogant rich kids with a grudge. The money didn’t even appease him anymore, he had so much and nothing to do with it all. At first so much money sounds fun right? Buy mansions, swimming pools, guns, explosives, rockets, spaceships. But he’d done all that and it was dull. What good were all these things when nobody cared that you had them. Things, objects, those were boring. What was interesting was- people. He didn’t just want to shoot a gun, he wanted to shoot a gun and for someone to shout in terror. What was interesting were people’s reactions and emotions. If he blew up a house and there was no one around to see it, then it felt pointless.

That’s why he was feverish in the new big opportunity for adventure he’d found. But he didn’t want to do it alone. That was boring. Someone was going to watch him do this. And someone was going to tell everyone how well he did it.

And that someone had to have good contacts. They were going to make him look good so that Earth’s Mightiest Assholes might finally start respectin’ or acceptin’ him into their ranks, to work with them on _their_ grandiose missions. He’d tried to pay his way into entry, but an Avengers membership was one, maybe the only, thing that money couldn’t buy. And that made him want it more.

That someone that was going to earn him a good name was Spidey. New York’s golden boy. He had the power to make anyone look good. And he was one ex avenger that didn’t make Wade want to shoot his own brains out. Cough, cough, Tin man. Plus, Spidey was just so damn _cool_. If Wade was going to make anyone his friend, it would be Spider-man.

The only problem was that he couldn’t find the webslinger. He had his phone number before, but he lost it when he pissed off Logan (by imitating his unrequited love Jean Grey), who kebabbed his phone as revenge. He’d cried for two hours straight realising he’d saved Spider-man’s number on the destroyed SIM card and couldn’t remember it. Those digits had been _so_ hard to get. Wolverine had just laughed unsympathetically and stole the beer from his fridge. That yellow and black spandexed midget had no idea what amount of pain he caused.

The mission? He’d uncovered a secret project from AIM. That organisation of yellow-clad mechanical engineers with beekeeping veils that wanted to overthrow the government. They were trafficking humans, so they could experiment on them by giving them mechanical parts and making them into cyborgs. Whether those humans were willing or not Wade didn’t know. But it was messed up, and it was trouble. And he would look so, so good stopping it.

A ragged black stray cat wailed at him, stalking out from the shadows. It stared up at him expectedly through two reflective yellow eyes that were much like his own. Trotting towards him it rubbed against his ankle.

“Sylvester! What’s up pussy cat?” Wade grinned through blunt yellow teeth. He reached down to scratch the cat’s head. It purred in response. “I’ve got no food for you right now. But I’m going to get some.” He picked the cat up and cradled it to his body with one arm. “It is Tuesday today, right?”

His rubber soles splashed through muddy puddles. He chewed his lip. His suit was a darkened red and black, parts of the fabric worn and lose, twitching in the breeze. He picked at a wedgie. Who cared what people thought. His joints were popping and clicking as he sauntered down the alley. His eyes turned skywards towards soft orange clouds.

He scratched his chin. “I’m gonna go see that hot dog guy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to revise for my exam. :IIIIIII Love ya'll though.

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno if it will continue. I actually have important work to do but this is what I do instead for some reason.


End file.
